Treasure of the Nation
by Tevrah
Summary: What if Marian had managed to escape after it was discovered that she was the Nightwatchman? How would the rest of the story have changed? A re-ending of S2xE10, "Treasure of the Nation"  Robin/Marian  Rated T for mild language.


*Picks up where Marian has set the fire in her room to try and escape before being hanged.

Allan's nose twitched and flared, a desperate urge to cough forcing him to come to consciousness. He blinked, once, twice, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes while his throat constricted, one dry heave after the next tearing through his lips as he tried to rid his body of whatever it was that kept him from breathing.

For a moment, as his eyes began to clear, he tried to remember where he was and what he was doing. Was the forest on fire? And then he realized that he hadn't woken up in the forest for quite some time. He took a moment to orientate himself, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. The castle. He was at the castle. Guy and he had brought Marian back—

Marian!

His eyes burst open, black dots dancing in front of his face from the sudden force. He found the door to her room across from his perch where he lay against the wall. Smoke slithered from under the door, billowed into the air gleefully. He stumbled to his feet, bracing his hand against the wall for support. He had to get to Marian. Robin would kill him if something happened to her, whether he was involved or not.

"Help!" the shout came out weak and useless. Bending at the waist to cough, he took a deep breath. "Help! Fire! Fire!"

He staggered toward the door, the small distance as big as Sherwood.

"Marian!"

Before he could register that it was Guy's voice shouting over the ringing in his head, Allan was thrown aside just as he reached the large oak door. He leaned against the wall and could feel his body sliding down to the floor once more. Getting to his feet twice would be impossible.

"She's escaped! Guards! Find her!"

The commotion from the room and the guards running in the hallway echoed like he was in a hole in the ground.

"Marian! Stop! Stop her!"

Blindly, Allan reached out and clamped onto a soft hand. His eyes cleared as he saw Marian's fierce and terrified eyes glaring down at him.

Run, he thought. Run fast and don't stop.

He let his hand slip away. He thought he saw a flash of surprise and gratitude as she twirled away, dodged one of the guards reaching for her and was gone. This would be better, he thought. Now it would be better.

"You fool! You damned, useless fool!"

He rolled his head to the side in time to see Guy's furious and twisted face, and the man's large black boot slamming down.

Marian raced through the castle, nimbly taking sharp turns, dodging guards, hiding in corners. After so long of being in the castle, after deliberately training herself to disappear in plain sight, she knew every nook and cranny of the entire building. Still, that didn't make things any easier. She had to get outside. She had to get to the forest. If she could make it out of the gate, then she could make it.

The singing of steel against leather had her ducking in time to miss having her head chopped off as a guard came at her from around the corner. She sidestepped, slid to the side, and ducked again. That's what made it easy to fight guards. They didn't have any proper training. They were simply expected to pick up a sword and know how to use it.

For Marian, her father had brought in the best teachers, some all the way from across the ocean, to teach her how to defend herself. He understood that just because she wasn't expected to learn how to use a sword did not mean she would not die by one.

The guard ran at her, sword raised in the air. She used the leverage of the brick behind her and barreled into him, one fist into his midsection, one into his already bulbous nose. With a cry, the guard clattered to the ground. She bent to retrieve his sword, but an arrow whizzed by her head, and she took off running again.

Four guards were coming at her from the back, three from the front. She glanced around quickly, saw her opening, and sped up. Just before the three guards reached her, she leapt onto the window-like opening that looked into the courtyard and stepped off. The impact jarred her body, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she had not landed wrong. Sometimes it only took a slight shift for something to break or twist.

Guards were taking positions on the wall, archers reading their bows. The distance to the portcullis wasn't that great, but if even one archer got lucky, then she would still die in the courtyard, only beside the hanging platform instead of on top of it. _Father, Mother, give me wings. Help me get to Robin_.

She took off, zigging and zagging across the cobblestone. Men were storming behind her, boots rushing down the steps, shouts to close the portcullis, close the gate ringing past her and into the town. An arrow thudded into the wood beside her head, catching a few strands of hair. She didn't bother to stop. She passed under the portcullis and took a sharp right into the laundry area of town. Ducking under bright cloths and past startled women, she stretched her legs as far as they would go and made for Thatcher Street. Thatcher was where the whorehouse of Nottingham was located, and there was bound to be a horse tethered to the post out front.

Running, she would be caught soon enough, but on a horse, they'd never catch her.

She rounded another corner and crouched under the baker's window. She could hear Marta, the baker's wife, humming a jolly tune about true love and dancing. She tried to take deep, gulping breaths as quietly as possible, her legs burning, her throat aching, sweat dripping into her eyes and soaking her skin like a hard rain. A group of soldiers ran past, and she curled into the building.

"Wot's all this?" Marta came to the window and craned her head around to follow the soldiers' retreating backs. Marian held her breath and urged her heart to stop beating so loudly. Surely the woman could hear it. Couldn't everyone? After a moment, Marta's head disappeared back inside the bakery, and Marian allowed a second of relief.

Checking to see if the road was clear, she darted out, concentrating on making it across the street. From there, she could make it to Thatcher Street with relative ease, using rooftops and alleys to shield her from prying eyes. She bumped into a drunk who was weaving his way across the street. The rancid ale from his cup splashed onto her chest, and his fingers clamped onto her arm as she tried to go around him.

"Sorry there, lovey." He grinned at her, his remaining teeth decayed and rotted, coating his breath. "Pretty lovey. Wot say we clean up this drink t'gether?" He laughed uproariously. "Clean it up t'gether!"

"No, thank you." She struggled to free her arm, but his grip, fingernails and all, twisted into her skin and refused to give. She angled her body as much in the shadows as she could, knowing her dress and the scene that the man was making could give her away at any moment.

"Pretty lovey," he said again and moved closer. His oversized belly bumped into hers and his oily hair competed with his breath. She turned her head to the side to try and get a fresh breath of air.

That's when she saw them. Two guards were trying to be inconspicuous as they loitered beside the tannery, but their quick glances her way assured her that they were merely waiting for backup. She supposed they had all heard by now who she was and what she could do.

So, knowing she had little choice, she gave up trying to reason with the man who was currently trying to sniff her neck, balled up her fist, and slammed it into his face. He lumbered into the dirt like a tree falling in the forest. The guards came for her, and she lurched into the alley.

Her window of escape was closing. She needed a horse, and she needed one now. The gate to the north entrance was already closed. She didn't need to check, knowing that was the first thing Guy would have done. She might be able to make it out of the east gate, but only because the portcullis had been removed when she was a child. Now only patrolling men guarded the entrance.

Guards barred her exit from the alley, so she snagged one of the wooden poles that were kept there for extra use around the town, and led with a sharp strike to the nearest soldier's knee. He went down with a yell, and she met him with a cracking upswing to his chin. She was already engaged with two others when he hit the ground.

Her training kept her from getting her face pummeled, but could do little to help her when one of the men threw her into the large water reservoirs lined against the wall. One of them shattered under the force of her body, and a sharp pain pierced her thigh. She curled her fingers around one of the large jagged pieces and swung out as they descended upon her. The tip slid down one of the men's faces and he screamed in agony as his eye split open.

"Bitch!" The man's companion came at her with murderous fury and she used his angry momentum to twirl him around and slam him against the ground. She stabbed the shard into his hand to pin him down. A litany of curses were spewed at her as she leapt over him, barreled through two men, and looked for a place to hide.

Soldiers seemed to be coming from the woodwork now, cockroaches of black and yellow swarming around her. Desperation ignited within her, and fear was slowly overcoming her determination. A horse whinnied and she whirled around to see a man walking a group of three horses down the road. She sprinted toward him and slammed into him before she could stop herself.

"I'm sorry," she gasped as she disentangled her limbs. "I'm sorry. I need a horse. Please. I need one!"

The man was still sitting on the ground, sprawled out, his dark brown robes tied together with simple braided rope and a shiny cross dangling from the rope, now laying in the dirt. His head was shaven, his face rounder than it should be for a man who fought against gluttony for a living.

As those thoughts registered in her mind, she concluded one very vital thing: she was going to hell. She was stealing from a priest and she was going to hell.

But as she saw the men getting ever closer in more numbers than before, she decided that she would prefer to have the time to atone for her sin instead of being cut down where she stood. She glanced back at the man who was still sitting in the dirt, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry," she said again and grabbed a handful of mane on the horse nearest her. She pulled herself onto its back as naturally as breathing. "I would prefer to live."

Using her knees as guidance, the horse shot off, forcing soldiers to scramble for cover, dodging left and right as the big black horse and its crazed rider mowed them down. She headed for the east gate as if hell was nipping at her heels. The gate, as expected, was up, but not clear. At least ten men were waiting for her, but if she stopped she would not get another chance to escape. So, leaning low over the horse that was now her partner in crime, she squeezed its sides and felt the muscles bunch as it gained speed.

The soldiers were looking at each other, wondering if she was really going to ride through them or stop, and she kept her eyes on the forest that could be seen just outside the gate. Freedom. The horse flew through the air, over the men's' heads, and slammed into the small wooden bridge that connected the wall to the valley surrounding it.

A thrill ran through her and she whispered praise into the horse's ear. They were soaring across the valley, and she looked back to see if anyone was following her. A contingent of men was riding out of the gate behind her, Guy in the lead. Even from the distance separating them, she could see his eyes focused on her, a fire burning in them. If he caught her, he'd make her suffer before killing her. She knew that. Despite all of his so-called feelings for her, she had been disloyal, and that was the one thing he would not tolerate.

The forest was getting closer, but so were the riders. Faster, she urged silently. We must go faster. Sweat was already coating the horse's sides, causing her legs to slip and slide with each jarring step. She braced her arms around its neck as they broke through the trees and into Sherwood. Still, she wasn't safe yet. She needed to be further in before she could disappear. The horses behind her were snorting and whinnying as their riders beat their sides with riding crops to make them catch her. She felt a moment of heartache for the animals being punished because of her, and guided her own overworked stead through the trees.

The beautiful and deadly thing about Sherwood was that there were so many twists and turns, and if a person didn't stay on the paths, they would get lost and might never be found. Lucky for Marian, she not only spent her childhood exploring the forest with Robin, but she had lived there for a time, as well. Robin and the others had taught her some of their tricks for disappearing.

The riders had fallen back now, trying to maneuver their horses through the trees and across the harsh terrain. She urged her horse up a small incline littered with roots and rocks. At the top, she slid down and felt a sudden and ripping pain tear through her upper right thigh. Blood was slowly seeping through the material of her dress, but she didn't have time to bandage whatever wound she had acquired.

She smoothed her hand down the horse's midnight hide and kissed its neck. "Thank you," she whispered to it and looked into its eyes. "Thank you. Now get to safety. Find your way home. Go." She gave the rump a quick slap and the horse clattered back down the incline, running back the way it came.

She gathered her skirts in her hands and kept to the trees. She considered going to the camp, but she knew that Gisbourne was tracking her, so she couldn't do that. Robin was probably still off on his mission for the king, otherwise he would have found her by now. She would have to throw Gisbourne off of her trail on her own. She crept through the forest, careful not to disturb the brush or to frighten the animals that were nesting around her. Act like you belong, she recalled Robin's advice, and soon enough you will.

The minutes seemed an eternity, but she finally found what she was looking for. The large tree stretched to the sky, as tall as any building that had ever been erected in Nottingham County. The limbs curved and hooked onto the ground, touching the roots that based it. It wasn't the largest tree in Sherwood, but it was the closet one she could get to. She hoisted herself up on the nearest branch and climbed, maneuvering from one limb to the other until she was more than halfway up the tree. She flattened her body to lie on the limb she had chosen, and waited.

Horses passed under her perch once, twice, three times before fading away in the distance. Her right leg was throbbing and she couldn't tell if it was still bleeding or not. She didn't want to risk checking just in case she made one of the birds that were nesting above her head take flight. The sunlight that painted shadows against the forest floor was beginning to recede, the shadows lengthening as the day went into its last stages of life.

Her ears pricked at the sound of a horse moving steadily through the forest. It sounded like just one, someone who was taking his or her time. Maybe it was a traveller and she could ask for some water. Her throat felt like sand had been forced down it. The horse got closer and she licked her lips as she tried to angle her head for a better look. Gisbourne, in his signature black, trotted into view. Her stomach clenched as fear pierced her as surely as an arrow to the gut.

He dismounted from his horse directly under her, and taking a knife from his boot, stabbed it into the tree trunk, carving a crude X onto its base. What was he doing? She tried to get a clearer view, and felt something rip in her wounded thigh. Her fist clenched and she buried her face in the bark of the tree, biting her lip until she tasted the warm tangy flavor of blood touch her tongue.

"Marian!"

His scream had her jerking head up to look down at him, but he wasn't looking at her. He wasn't even looking up. He was scanning the forest.

"I've marked another tree! Just as I said I would! I will mark every tree in this forest until I have cut them all down! I will lay waste to this place to find you! Do you hear me! You cannot run from me! I will find you! Marian!"

Cold enveloped her. He was mad. Truly, irrevocably, absolutely mad. There was no telling what he would do to her if he got his hands on her. She held her breath as he climbed back into the saddle and rode off just as slowly as he had ridden in.

Night settled into the forest with a cornucopia of sounds and scents. While Sherwood could be dangerous during the day, at night it had the potential to be deadly, with wolves hunting for meat, owls screeching through the air, and a ground filled with traps in the form of roots and unseen rocks just waiting for the chance to trip up the unwatchful traveler.

Marian's climb down was much slower and definitely more painful than it had been going up. After lying still for so long she could feel every bruise and tender area on her body. Her leg was a constant ache, and when she put pressure on it, it turned into a screaming explosion of agony. Her lip burned from where she had bitten it, and her head was ringing like a fleet of church bells announcing Mass.

It was a hollow victory when she finally put her feet on solid ground because she didn't have a clue how she was going to make it to the camp with her leg in the condition it was in. The camp was at least eight miles away from the tree, but if she didn't get treatment for her wound, it would likely get infected. She gritted her teeth and forced her feet to move. Tears wanted to fall from the constant rush of hot pain, but she couldn't let them. If they came down, then she would go down, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to get back up.

She used the trees for balance when she could, and concentrated on her nails pushing into her curled fists when she couldn't. Ages seemed to pass before she couldn't see the tree anymore. Each step was a triumph, no matter how small. Suddenly, her feet flew out from under her and she went tumbling down a hill.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn't sure if she had closed them on purpose, or if she had blacked out from the pain, but she did know that she was cold, the thin material of her dress, most of it torn, provided no protection from the beastly Nottingham night. She rolled to her back. Or tried to anyway. No matter how much she pushed or pulled at her body, it would not do as she told it to. A tear leaked out and she slammed her eyes closed to lock the rest inside.

A shuffle of brush from the side of her had her eyes popping open again. Her fingers flailed around uselessly for a weapon of some kind, a stick, a rock, anything. The first thing she saw was a light, the fire weak but efficient as it lit the way for a small boy and girl. Her fingers loosened on the rock she was clutching. The girl hid behind the boy's back, both of them skinny and dirty, their clothes, or rags more like, were slipping off their shoulders, barely covering their knees.

"Wot is it?" It was the little girl, her voice as thin as a reed. "Wot is it, Reggie?"

"Stay b'hin me," the boy ordered. "I'll see to it."

He took a step closer to where she lay. "Who's there?" he demanded, trying to sound brave even as his voice cracked. "Show yerself."

"Help," Marian whispered, but knew that the children couldn't hear her, so swallowing past the stone lodged in her throat, she tried again. "Help. Help me."

The little girl peeked around the boy. "Someone needs help, Reggie. I'll go get Mother."

"No," the little boy grabbed at her with his free hand. "It migh' be a trap, Sarah. Stay b'hin me."

"Help," Marian said again. "Please. Help me."

"It's a lady," Sarah said, this time inching around her brother. "I'm going to get Mother." And she took off back into the brush before he could stop her.

The boy sighed in frustration. "Girls," he said in disgust.

This managed a weak laugh from Marian. "We're not all bad. I promise."

He turned back to her, taking a step closer. "How do I know this isn't a trap, huh?"

She tried again, not even bothering to move her abused body, appreciating the numb feeling the cold was offering now. "My name's Marian," she said. "You're Reggie, and that was your sister, Sarah?"

He shifted the torch from one hand to the other, leaning forward as far as he could without taking a step. The light cast all of her except the hand by her head into shadows. "I'm not gonna let you hurt my sister," he said.

"You're a brave boy," she replied. "I knew a boy like you when I was growing up. He never let anyone hurt me, either. His name was Robin."

The boy forgot to be cautious and took another step. "Wot, like Robin Hood?"

She gave a soft laugh. "He was simply Robin back then."

Before he could reply, his sister returned with a woman in tow. "I'm telling you. There's a woman who needs help."

"All righ', all righ'," the woman said in resignation as she allowed the little girl to guide her. "Reggie? Wot's going on here?"

When the boy turned to speak to his mother, the light threw Marian's body into sharp relief. The woman gasped, and the children got their first look her. Marian supposed she must look worse off than she thought.

"I know you," Reggie said in awe. "You're Lady Marian."

Their mother gave the sign of the cross and lumbered over to where she lay. "My Lady. Wot happened to you?"

"I'm afraid I've had a trying day," Marian said. "I know I am a stranger, but could you please help me?" Her voice was a breathy mumble, each word forced out of a tired and aching face.

The woman crossed herself again. "Of course, of course, My Lady. Reggie, give that torch to your sister and help me get her on her feet. Sarah, you light our way, lass."

Between the boy's young strength and his mother's broad back, they pulled Marian to her feet. She teetered and had to lean against the woman while catching her breath.

"That's right, dearie," the woman said and wrapped a stout arm around Marian's waist. "You lean on me, and we'll get you there."

Marian didn't have the strength to protest and let the children and their mother guide her into the unknown.

The unknown turned out to be a horribly pitiful camp strung out between two trees. A small fire was burning, but its light gave little warmth. Sarah was already laying the torch on the small circle of stone surrounding the fire, and Reggie sprinted ahead at his mother's directive to lie out their meager blankets. She lowered Marian down.

"I'm so sorry," Marian began.

"Now, I'll have none of that. Our good Lord teaches us that we must do unto others. If I couldn't extend that to you, wot kinda mother would I be, leading my children down a path of unrighteousness?"

Gratitude and hope covered Marian like a silk robe. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Thank you."

"Now, we'll set you right," the woman began. "Let's see to those wound of yours, shall we?"

"Robin." Marian pushed his name out like a lifeline. She struggled to sit up, but couldn't find the strength. "Please."

"That's right," Reggie said from where he hovered behind his mother. "She said she knows Robin Hood!"

"Is that so?" the woman glanced from her son to Marian.

Marian nodded as best she could around the pain in her head. "Please," she said again. "I need Robin."

"I'm afraid I don't know where he is." The woman worried at her lip. "Perhaps at first light, we could ask some of the others."

Marian looked at Reggie, his face downcast now that he wouldn't get to see his hero. "Do you know what direction is west?"

He nodded quickly and pointed to his left.

"Go west until you smell honeysuckle and pine. When you see a large patch of honeysuckle growing on the side of the hill, yell as loud as you can for Robin. Keep yelling and keep heading west until he finds you. Tell him that Marian needs him to come. Tell him that Marian needs him."

Reggie looked at his mother, fairly vibrating for permission to complete the task. His mother looked at Marian again, and whatever she saw must have assured her of the plan because she nodded to her son. "Be quick, lad."

He grabbed the torch and was off.

The woman watched until she couldn't see her son's light anymore before turning back to Marian.

"Thank you," Marian said again, her eyes feeling as heavy as lead. "Thank you so much."

"He'll be talking about this for years," the woman replied. "Now, let's see to those wounds of yours."

Much crossed his arms and pouted. Of course, if Robin were to say 'pouting' to his face, then Much would be in a snit. So, to save himself the scene that would happen, he tried reasoning with his old friend instead.

"They need food, Much," Robin said as he hoisted a sack of grain onto his shoulder. "The entire village could starve or freeze to death if we don't help them."

"Well what about helping me?" Much asked as D'jaq loaded him down with bags of food. "Once we empty this food store, we'll have nothing left, and then someone is going to have to hunt for food. And just who do you think that will be? Me, that's who."

John lumbered past with two large sacks on each shoulder, and Will was by the torches stabbed in the ground, organizing the blankets into two piles for them to be distributed to those in most need. He glanced at D'jaq. "Do you think we should get some medicine, as well?"

"Medicine," Much huffed, some from the weight in his arms that he was hauling to the food pile, but mostly from being ignored.

D'jaq considered for a moment from where she was on the ground, one arm still reaching down into the large underground cellar where the emergency rations were stored. "If we need some, I will make a list to be sure of what I will need and make rounds at first light."

Robin crouched and joined his arm to D'jaq's, using only his sense of touch to find and pull up a wooden box where the corn was stored. "D'jaq's right," he said as he handed the box to John. "We can better assess the details tomorrow, but for now we need to make certain they are warm and fed."

"Well, what about us?" Much asked. "We've been on the King's mission all day. It took half the night to get home, and now we'll running around for the other half. How are we supposed to help anyone if we're starved and exhausted?"

"He's right, Robin," D'jaq said. "We have to take care of ourselves or we will be unable to help anyone."

Much nodded triumphantly. "There, see? Exactly."

Robin rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. "I know, but this is an emergency. We'll do what we can for the villagers tonight, take a rest, and make a plan for tomorrow."

"The villagers will be scattered," Will said. "We won't be able to find them all if we stick together. Maybe we should split up, cover more ground."

Robin nodded. "That's what I was thinking. Will, Much, you two head to the south. John, D'jaq, you two head east, and I'll cover the north. Take as much as you can and go as far as you—"

He cut off and glanced at the dark forest around him. The others followed his cue and stopped moving to listen.

"Master?" Much whispered. "What do you—"

They all heard it, a voice not too far off, shouting. They waited to hear it again.

"Robin! Robin Hood!"

Robin took off, his long legs nimbly racing across terrain that he had spent nearly two years getting to know. He could hear the others behind him, but he concentrated on that small child's voice calling his name over and over. He saw a torch light down below him, bobbing and weaving as the young boy that held it ran as fast as he could. Robin ran to intercept him.

"Here!" Robin answered and the boy's head jerked up. He stopped running, his small, skinny legs giving out beneath him.

Robin gripped his shoulders, feeling how the skin stretched across his malnourished body. "D'jaq!" Robin called.

The boy grabbed at Robin's tunic even as D'jaq was trying to peel his small hands away to see if he was injured. Robin finally got a good look at the boy's face and felt a flash of recognition. "I know you," he said, practically holding the gasping boy upright. "You're from Locksley. Reggie."

The boy nodded quickly, still trying to catch his breath enough to speak.

"Are you injured?" D'jaq asked quickly. "Do you need help?"

The boy shook his head and then nodded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Much asked John, and John, as was his way, did nothing more than shrug.

The boy took one final, audible gasp. "Marian. Marian needs you to come. Marian needs you."

Robin's chest tightened and her face flashed across his mind, thoughts of every horror he had seen committed in the county mixing in with it. For her to need help, something was very wrong. "Where is she?"

The boy pointed back the way he'd come.

"John," Robin said, and John picked the boy up and put him on his back.

"Rest now," John told him softly. "We'll do the running from here."

Robin was already gone.

The boy managed to finally catch his breath enough to tell them that they needed to keep heading east until they saw a campfire. His mother was looking after Marian, but she was asking for Robin. As for Robin, her name kept repeating over and over again in his mind, a prayer in one word. They ran for nearly two hours before the flicker of a campfire could be seen in the distance. The boy was asleep on John's back, but Robin trusted that if the boy had known where to find them, then he had not led them astray with directions on how to get back.

The closer he got, he saw that the camp was a piece of bed linen stretched between two trees, tied off on both sides with rotten rope. There was a sad campfire burning in front of the camp and a young girl was doing her best to keep it going. She looked worn and cold, clutching her middle with one arm as she used the other to stoke the fire with a skinny stick.

He didn't bother to hide his approach, or to slow it, so when the girl heard him racing toward her, her head snapped up and her eyes widened. She dropped the stick and ran to the makeshift tent.

"Mother!"

A woman stepped out of the tent just as Robin reached the campfire. She was stout, given to a hard rounding of the middle and of the chest. Her face was weathered and tired, but her eyes were the same as her children's, deep brown. She nodded as he tried to glance around her and into the tent.

"Where's my boy?" she wanted to know, wrapping one arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Here," John assured her and slid the sleepy-eyed child to the ground.

He saw his mother and smiled. "I found him, mama. I found Robin Hood."

His mother smiled at him. "Of course you did, love. We knew that you would." Then she turned back to Robin. "Brace yerself, my Lord. I haven't told her yet. We was waiting for you."

Before Robin could ask what she was talking about, she stepped toward her son, and left him at the entrance of the tent. He moved the corner of the linen out of the way and froze. D'jaq stepped up next to him and breathed out, "Allah have mercy."

Marian's face, usually so creamy white and lovely, was a collection of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. It looked as though someone had taken their time to try and beat her face in. One eye was already swollen shut, her lips were puffy and split, her chin had dried blood on it, and her neck was a horrid yellow-purple color. Robin's breath shook out of him, and D'jaq moved around him to try and get a better look.

"Will!" she called out. "I need light!"

Robin knelt by Marian's head and smoothed her hair back as gently as he could. "Will she be all right?" he asked D'jaq as Will held up a torch for her.

"I do not know," D'jaq, ever the honest one, replied. "I do not know what her other injuries are."

"What happened to her?" Will whispered, his gaze taking in her dirty and ripped clothes caked with mud and dried blood.

"We found her," the little girl answered from where she stood beside her mother and brother.

"Where?" Much wanted to know, his heart aching for his friends' pains.

She pointed. "Over there. Mother said she probably fell down the hill, but there's something stuck in her leg. Mother didn't want to take it out."

"I don' know much about healing," the woman explained. "I didn' want to cause more damage."

"You did good," D'jaq said. "The wound could have started bleeding and you would not have been able to stop it."

Robin kept smoothing his hand across Marian's hair as D'jaq began cleaning the wounds using the water pouch she kept tied to her belt.

Sarah tugged on Much's coat. "Does he fancy her?" she whispered.

Much nodded and leaned closer to her. "My master and Lady Marian are in love."

Sarah giggled and Reggie whispered, "Gross."

Robin stood up, letting D'jaq have his spot for better access.

"I'm going to need my medicines," she told him. "Along with clean water and bandages."

"I'll get them," Will said. "Do you want me to bring everything? The whole chest?"

She looked at Marian, trying to see the damage through her clothes. "Yes. I don't know how bad it is." She glanced up at Robin, saw his stoic face. "I will do everything we can. I promise you."

He nodded, and with one last look, stepped out to let her work. "Will, go back to the camp, get the medicines and whatever food and blankets we have there. Go quickly."

Will nodded and took off, his experience as a Sherwood inhabitant allowing him to move silently and without light.

Robin turned to John and Much. "You two bring all of the food and blankets from the store here. We're going to find the villagers and round them up to camp here."

"Here?" Much asked. "How will we find them all?"

"I can show you where they are," Reggie volunteered. "The Spencers and Kirklands ar'not that far away."

His mother nodded. "We all took what we could and ran. Many went to stay with relatives at other villages, but the rest of us spread out in groups in the forest. Marjorie and Kevin Spencer are less than a mile north of us."

Robin nodded. "All right. Much, John, I'll—"

"Stay here," John interrupted. He put a large hand on Robin's shoulder. "We'll see to it. You stay here and help D'jaq."

Robin sighed. "Thank you, my friend."

Much and John disappeared back the way they came, and Robin held out his hand. "I owe you a debt," he began, but the woman shook her head.

"No, my Lord. After all you've done for myself and my bairns, it's the least we could do. I try to teach my children that helping others is God's way. We couldn't leave her out there."

"All the same," Robin insisted. "I owe you more than you know."

"My Ned looked at me that way," she said. "The way you look at her. Like I was the sun and the moon and the stars."

"Ned," he repeated. "Ned Firth. He was a blacksmith in Locksley. You're Ezra."

"Aye. My husband took a hard coughing sickness and died summer before last."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I remember he always had a smile for everyone."

Her eyes watered. "And now he smiles at angels."

He crouched down to be eyelevel with Reggie. "You up to another run, my lad? We'll see if we can't find some villagers to come join us. If your mother doesn't mind."

Reggie's eyes begged his mother to say yes, and she nodded, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "Off with you then."

Reggie whooped for joy and took off, leading Robin Hood through Sherwood.

D'jaq took her time sewing up the wound in Marian's thigh. There was a buzz and clatter outside the tent as more villagers came. Children, who would normally be sleeping, couldn't seem to keep quiet with the excitement, and women worried while their men tried to stake claim to whatever patch of dirt they could. The night would be over soon, it was already past midnight, but still villagers kept coming. Word was getting around that Robin Hood had set up a place for them to have shelter, warmth, and food.

Marian had stayed blessedly unaware of the operations D'jaq was performing, some to her own pain and exhaustion, but mostly to the draft D'jaq had slipped under the other woman's tongue. This brought back memories of a year before when D'jaq had been sewing up other wounds, more deadly wounds. She had been less sure of her abilities then, relying on another to do the work for her, but now she was certain that Marian would not have the complications as before.

Robin had been in and out all through the night, checking on D'jaq, checking on Marian. There was little he could do, so each time he left to help with the villagers, only to return once more a couple of hours later for D'jaq's reassurances. If ever there had been a man in love, she thought. For all his arrogance, his confidence, and his skills, it amazed her at how he was threaded together by this woman.

From what she had gathered from Much and his incessant need to talk at all times, Robin and Marian had been betrothed as children, and as luck would have it, had loved each other from the moment they met, growing from playmates to sweethearts. When Robin had left for war, Much decreed that adventure and Marian, his two greatest loves, had torn him apart. D'jaq was inclined to agree.

She knotted the string and sat back. Her back and neck were aching, and her knees were screaming at her, but there was nothing more for her to do. At least not until Marian woke up. She slowly climbed to her legs and stretched as much as she could in the cramped space. Over the course of villagers coming, Robin had managed to acquire candles and another blanket to use as a door. D'jaq blew out all of the candles except for one, covered Marian up to her chin, and stepped out.

The night was bitingly cold and she saw that the villagers were spread out in a large circle around the tent. Several more campfires were lit, but offered little warmth. John, Will, Much, and Robin had brought the blankets and food, and people were huddled together as some shoveled the food in and others simply stared at it. They had to be wondering if there would be a tomorrow, much less food for that tomorrow.

Will was tending to a small, elderly woman who was limping almost to the point of not being able to walk at all. D'jaq walked over to help and grabbed the other woman's arm.

"I curse these legs," the woman spat. "Never do what I tell them to."

D'jaq and Will shared a smile over the woman's bent head. "Well, maybe I can help with that," D'jaq said and was already formulating a way to ease the stiffness out of the woman's limbs.

Robin let the blanket fall, closing him in the tent. He was so tired, his feet practically dragged as he walked to Marian. With the flickering candle, he could see that her face was cleaned, and while still black, blue, purple, and yellow, didn't have any blood on it. He was tempted to search for whatever other injuries D'jaq may have found and tended to, but he knew that Marian would somehow find out and kill him for taking such liberties.

He lowered himself on the ground beside her pallet of blankets, stretched his legs out and leaned against the tree where he had retied the ropes more securely only hours before. The villagers were starting to find them without help now, so that issue was taking care of itself, and the others were finishing up dividing the food and blankets. They all needed a good rest themselves and would have to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn.

His fingers touched her cheek lightly, felt the flush of warmth on it and could imagine how her face looked with pink tingeing her skin. It had always been so easy to make her blush as a child. She had never been able to lie because she would turn pink and he would tease her mercilessly about it. Now, though, she could lie like a drunk could drink. It made him proud and sad at the same time. The girl he knew was lost to court labyrinths and five years of a hard life. Just like the boy he used to be had been put to ground somewhere in the Holy Land.

And yet, somehow, they had managed the find their way back to each other, the man and the woman, hardened and coming from different directions. They fit. They always had. He would dream of her in the Holy Land, dream of her face, her hair, her eyes, her scent. When he would dream of home, it was always her face he saw. And now, when he dreamed of a better world, a world without the sheriff, a world of hope, he still saw her face.

Much would say that he was well and truly sunk. Robin just accepted that she was his beginning, his middle, and his end. It was as simple as that.

He drifted off with memories of her braided hair and freckled face racing off with him through the hills of Locksley, two children running toward the sun.

Marian came to slowly. It was as if every cell in her body had to wake up one after the other before her eyes would open. Even then, she could only manage one eye. It took only a moment after waking before she felt each bruise and cut come alive on her body. She moaned softly and tried to get up.

A cool hand smoothed her brow and gently held her down. "There you are. Take it easy."

She knew him, even before he spoke, she knew his touch. She relaxed as his name drifted through her. Robin. She licked her lips and tried to speak, but the only sound that came out sounded closer to a frog than a human. His hand disappeared for a second only to return cupped around her neck as he held a pouch to her mouth.

"Drink a little," he urged. "Slowly, slowly."

She sipped, allowing the cool water to wash the sand out of her throat. He eased her head back down when she was finished. "Better?" he asked softly.

She nodded as best she could. "Why do I feel as though I've been trampled?" she asked.

He chuckled as he stretched out beside her and propped his head up with one of his arms. "Probably because you look like you have," he replied and traced a fingertip over the eye that she still couldn't open.

She winced which caused her cheeks, chin, nose, and lips to hurt. "Ow," she said.

He leaned down and kissed where he had touched. "Sorry."

"Did you finish you mission?" she asked, enjoying the way his hand was tangled with hers.

"Yes. They're safely on their way now."

"They?"

"Queen Eleanor and her guards."

"The Queen? Well, you've had a more exciting day than I have."

"Somehow I doubt that," he argued. "Now, are you going to tell me what happened, or should I keep coming up with scenarios in my head?"

"What are some of your scenarios and I'll tell you if you're close," she said, trying to dodge the shouting match that was sure to follow her confession.

"Marian," he started. "I have ranged from you being attacked by some unknown assailant that you couldn't fight off to the sheriff discovered you were the Nightwatchman and tortured you for information about me. The real reason has to offer me more peace than either of those thoughts."

She remained silent and refused to meet his gaze, and knew, when he sat up, that he guessed it.

"Marian! You gave me your word that you wouldn't try anything. You promised me!"

She looked at him, her need to make him believe she was right outweighing the desire to not have a fight. "The villagers were starving! I couldn't just leave them without any food!"

"And look how well that turned out. What happened? The whole story, Marian."

She knew by the look on his face, that impassive, lord of the manor look, that he expected an honest answer. So she told him. Getting caught, escaping, the fights in the town, the race across the valley, and the foray into the forest.

"You stole a horse from a priest?" he asked incredulously.

Marian wanted to roll her eyes but figured it would be less effective with only one eye open. "I sent it back to him, and I'll do penance for it as soon as I can."

Robin rubbed his hand down his face and she realized that he was tired. He looked and sounded tired when he hardly ever did. She touched his cheek and he wrapped his hand around hers.

"Be angry with me later," she said. "You need to rest."

He kissed her palm. "I could have lost you today, Marian. I could have lost you and never have known it until it was too late. Do you know how that chokes me?"

She rubbed her thumb across his lips. "How do you think I feel everyday? Knowing that you're in the forest, that anything could happen to you, and I could be too late? That's why I went back to the castle. Because I realized that I had the chance to be in time, to even prevent it from happening. So, yes, I do know how it chokes the very life out of you."

"Aren't we a pair?" he said and kissed her lightly, careful not to cause her pain.

"The best," she whispered against his lips and kissed him again. "Now get some sleep. Please. Tomorrow is as good a time as any to lecture me."

He lay beside her again, retaining her hand, his arm pressed against hers. "Best prepare yourself, Lady Marian. It's going to start with the issue about stealing horses from priests."

As I'm sure 99% of us all agree, they should not have killed off Marian, so I wanted to rewrite the ending of the episode where things started to go wrong. First, Guy is psycho—I mean he left his newborn baby to die in the forest. Being obsessed with Marian is not going to change who he really is. Second, if he found out that Marian was the Nightwatchman, he would not just smile and forgive her. Third, I think Allan would have helped her out if he could have. He was just scared that he wouldn't have anything or anybody. Besides, didn't he come through in the end?

I hope you all enjoyed my re-ending of "Treasure of the Nation." Hopefully, time permitting, I can rewrite the last two episodes entirely, but don't hold your breath. Senior year in college plus my internship is killing me. But here's hoping!


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